"Definitely."

"Could you see into the room?"

"No. I didn't try, anyway. I was afraid. I just picked up my shoe and beat it."

Hall hesitated. He gave Jerry a fresh cigarette, lit it for her. "Could they have seen you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "But that's not the end of it," she said. "After dinner, Ansaldo took me for a walk in the garden. He made a lot of small talk about different cases. Then he asked me why I insisted upon returning to town. I told him again that I wanted to buy some things to take home for friends. He was very pleasant about it. He asked me, half-seriously, if the real reason I wanted to go back was because I had a date with you. He was acting the part of a jealous lover when he said it."

"Acting?"

"I'm sure he was only acting. Because when he said that I just laughed and said, 'Good heavens, no, doctor! The last time I saw Hall he said he was going to make a small fortune writing the story of that little Dutchman's experience with the j.a.ps, and my guess is that he'll be spending the next few days locked up in his room with the Dutchman.'

"Ansaldo stopped dead in his tracks when I said that, Matt. He asked me which Dutchman I mean--but only after he had caught his breath."

"What did he say when you told him you meant Androtten?"

"Nothing much. He made a joke--a bad one--about Flying Dutchmen. And then he continued talking about medical cases."

"And that was the last you saw of him?"

"Just about. My train left at five-thirty this morning. He was asleep when I left."

"Who drove you to the station?"

"Marina and a ranch hand. Marina was glad to see me go. He hates to see me around Ansaldo."

"Why? Is Ansaldo also a fairy?"

"G.o.d, no!" Jerry laughed. "He's anything but."

"You're exhausted. Let me get you some breakfast," he said. "And then, when you catch your second wind, maybe you'll remember some other details."

"I'm sure I've told you everything, Matt."

He picked up the phone, asked for Vicente. "Ham and eggs?" he asked Jerry.

"No. Just coffee and toast."

Hall gave Vicente the order. "And one other thing," he told the waiter.

"The woman is in trouble. Some one will have to keep an eye on her today. And let me know when the fat little foreigner on this floor returns to town. He is a dangerous enemy."

"All those words for coffee and toast?" Jerry asked. "I've learned a few words, Matt. I know that _mujer_ is woman."

"Good for you. I was asking him about his wife. She's been ill."

"Oh." Jerry relaxed in her chair. "Tell me, Matt. What was it all about at the ranch? There was something wrong there. I know. Why should Ansaldo have wanted me around? And who is Androtten?"

"That's a big order, baby. There's only one thing I definitely know about it. I know that Ansaldo is a hot shot in the Falange. I know that two Falange agents arrived in San Hermano on board a Spanish ship the other day, and that they were traced to the ranch. But I can only guess that the two neighboring _estancieros_ you saw were these two visiting Falange agents."

"And Androtten?"

"Again I'm guessing. I know that a n.a.z.i general named Wilhelm von Faupel is the man who actually runs the Falange. I know something about the way the n.a.z.is work. O.K. So I a.s.sume that Androtten--if it really was Androtten whose voice you heard--is a Gestapo agent. That would make sense. Hitler orders Tabio's death; the job is handed to Hitler's Falange, and a Gestapo officer tags along to run the show in San Hermano as his comrades run it in Spain. It would all make sense if we could prove that the two visiting _estancieros_ were the Falange agents off the _Marques de Avillar_, and that Androtten was the man you heard."

"Then why should they have wanted me around?" Jerry asked.

There was a gentle rap on the door. "Time out for coffee," Hall smiled.

"_Entrada!_"

The door was unlocked. The handle turned, and Wilhelm Androtten entered.

He took off his small Panama hat, fanned his red, puffy face with it.

"Ah," he sighed, "they told me at the desk that I would find you here, Mr. Hall. Hot as h.e.l.l, isn't it?" He put a large coffee canister on the arm of a chair. "May I sit down?" he asked.

"Of course." Hall glanced at Jerry, whose fingers were clenched tightly on a large amber comb. "What can I do for you?"

Androtten put the canister on his lap. "Oh, my dear Mr. Hall," he sighed, his pudgy right hand resting on the lid of his tin. "I just wanted to tell you that I am leaving for Rio on an extended buying trip tomorrow. If you still are interested in my d.a.m.n story, perhaps you could spare me some time this afternoon, eh?"

"I think it could be managed," Hall smiled. "Did you buy all the d.a.m.n Monte Azul bean you wanted, sir?"

"Oh, yes. Oh, yes indeed, Mr. Hall. Fine, rich, full-bodied bean, fragrant as h.e.l.l. Please, I'll show you." Androtten opened the canister.

There was no coffee under the lid. Instead, there was a small automatic pistol, equipped with a gleaming silencer.

"Please," Androtten sighed, "no noise, please. I should hate to be forced to shoot you both."

Jerry stifled a muted cry. "You wouldn't dare," Hall said.

"You are a fool, Hall. I hope you have already noticed that my gun is equipped with the only silencer in this jungle of Indians and blackamoors."

"The Gestapo--you n.a.z.is think of everything, don't you?" Hall said in a rising voice.

"I must remind you again not to shout, Hall. Please, lock your hands on top of your head."

Hall obeyed the order.

"If the nurse co-operates, she will be spared."

"For G.o.d's sake, Jerry, do anything the n.a.z.i orders," Hall cried. "He has a gun!"

The little man with the gun angrily raised a finger to his lips. "Not one word out of you," he whispered. He got out of the chair, started backing toward the door. "Now," he said, "listen carefully, both of you.

For your information, Hall, I am not Gestapo. I am from the Ibero-American Inst.i.tute in Berlin. And that, I am afraid, is the last information you will ever receive about anything, Hall."

The comb in Jerry's hand snapped with a dry little crack. The sudden noise startled Androtten. He raised the gun and fired just as Hall dove for his feet. Three times the cough of a silenced gun sounded in the room. The shots seemed to come all together. A split second after the third shot was fired Hall had kicked the gun from the limp hand of the n.a.z.i and was sitting astride his chest with his hands locked on Androtten's throat. He was oblivious to the noise at the balcony, to Jerry, to everything but the man dying under him.

A gentle hand tugged at Hall's shoulder. "Enough, Mateo. The _cabron_ is dead."

Emilio Vicente had climbed into the room from the balcony. He had a pistol in his hand. "The woman," he said. "She has fainted."

Jerry was lying in a heap on the floor near her chair. "Christ, she was. .h.i.t!" Hall rushed to her side, examined her for bullet wounds.